Dribs and Drabbles
by Buridanical State
Summary: A series of Morgan/Reid short-fics based on one-word prompts. The genres may vary, but they will be mostly Romance and Friendship.
1. Aversion

**A/N: Ah, the Alphabet Meme. Well, let's see if I can make it to 'Z'. This'll just be a series of Morgan/Reid short-fics that I'm using to get back into the habit of writing routinely. Hope you enjoy :) **

****I do not own Criminal Minds or its associated characters.****

_A is for Aversion_

Usually, Spencer Reid had an aversion toward most things sports-related. Not that he didn't enjoy the occasional bet on college and professional basketball— it _was_ easy money after all- but beyond the technical and strategic aspects of sports, there really was nothing of interest for him. Until…

"Is that…?" Reid asked from the doorway of his best friend's home as he was being welcomed inside.

"What? Oh- Oh, yeah." Morgan followed his line of vision over to what Reid had often referred to as his 'ridiculously and unnecessarily large' LED television. With Reid's critical eye, a few tools, and some heavy lifting on Morgan's part, it had only taken them 2 hours and 14 minutes to make sure that it was perfectly centered on the wall opposite the overstuffed leather couch. "Come on in, man. I was just reliving the glory days," he chuckled.

"Huh," was the distracted response as Reid entered the room and Morgan closed the door behind him.

Morgan stood there for a few seconds, silently observing his friend who shuffled over to the couch and sat down on the edge of one of the center cushions. He quirked a brow at the intense concentration on the younger man's face. Leave it to Reid to be more into an old college football game than any pro game played in present day.

"We're the guys in purple. I'm number-"

"22," Reid finished automatically.

"Yeah. How'd you know that?"

For the first time since he'd arrived, Reid turned his face toward the other man, mouth gaping and eyes slightly wider than usual. There was a brief flicker in the doe-eyed stare before he answered.

"November 11th, 2007. You mentioned it in a conversation with Hotch about some football player with the same number."

Morgan's brow furrowed as the conversation seemed to dance at the periphery of his memory. "Huh," he breathed and then shook his head. "At least you weren't rootin' for the wrong team. I'm gonna go order dinner. I know how this one ends." He disappeared into the kitchen, wearing the same vaguely ponderous look.

Reid listened for the deep tones of Morgan's voice placing their delivery order before grabbing the remote control, rewinding the footage by several minutes, and hitting the pause button. He wondered if Morgan would eventually remember that on November 11, 2007, Reid was on a consult 141 miles away, with no way of overhearing _any_ conversation between Morgan and Hotch. Probably not. No one ever really questioned him on things like dates and times.

He tilted his head and stared at the huddle of men, with a new appreciation for the size and quality of the gigantic television. As if number 22 could be anyone else. He'd recognize that spandex-covered ass anywhere. A decidedly wicked smile curved the corners of his lips.

"Go team."


	2. Balance

**A/N: To SarySoda, whose review actually made me laugh: Ha!**

_B is for Balance_

"I still don't understand why-"

"Reid!" Derek finally snapped after the seventh reference to their most recent case. The case was wrapped up. The UnSub had been captured, the families of the victims notified, and the mountain of ensuing paperwork completed; but Reid just couldn't seem to get out of work mode.

"We've been home for all of an hour, and you've mentioned this case half a dozen times." When he saw the absent look on his lover's face, he amended with just a hint of annoyance, "Seven times, Spencer."

Spencer's vacant look morphed into a frown. "You counted?"

Derek snorted. "Oh, like that's not what you were doin' just now."

"That's beside the point. I don't know if I appreciate you keeping a count of everything I say that annoys you."

"I would have to use irrational numbers for that," Morgan deadpanned.

A heavy silence fell between them until Spencer noticed the small twitch of Derek's lips.

"You jerk!" he cried, flinging a pillow at Derek's head. "I thought you were being serious."

"Aww. I'm sorry," he said through laughter that effectively devalued his apology. He climbed into bed and held back the covers in invitation to a still pouting Spencer. "You know I was just playin' with you. Now stop pouting and get your cute little ass over here."

Spencer tried to hold back the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips but failed miserably when, as soon as his body hit the bed, he was pulled into Morgan's arms like a favorite stuffed animal.

"Nite, Pretty Boy," Derek breathed, his face buried in the nest of tousled curls.

"G'night," came the muffled reply.

The only sound in the near-dark room was the quiet inhale-exhale of two weary souls as they slipped closer to their first peaceful night's sleep in a week. The arms wrapped around Spencer loosened a fraction, and the rise and fall of the chest beneath his head became slow and even.

He tried.

He really did.

"Derek?" he whispered, tracing idle patterns across the broad chest.

"Hmm?"

"Derek?" he called more insistently.

"Yeah, baby?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment.

"Why would he take their underwear just to discard it?"

Silence.

"_What?!_"

"I mean, there was no DNA or any evidence to suggest that- Oh, come on… That is so childish!"

But Morgan couldn't see the indignant scowl from his sanctuary of blankets and pillows that covered his head.


	3. Coffee

**A/N: Another quick break from a writing session on a longer fic. Stay back, writer's block! Back, I say!**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys. They are so much like candy :)**

_C is for Coffee_

"What… is it?" Reid's eyes were wide as saucers, his voice filled with a quiet awe.

"What's what?"

"_That,_" he breathed, only just remembering to indicate where 'that' happened to be. He pointed a slender finger toward the object that had caught his eye. Morgan's eyes landed on the object in question, and he quirked a quizzical brow. "Hmm. No idea." And he turned back to the moving line. It took Reid another nine seconds and one impatiently cleared throat from the woman behind them for him to move ahead as well.

"No idea?" he asked incredulously. "Aren't you the least bit interested in-"

"Nope."

"But Derek…"

"Spencer," he cut off his boyfriend again, "I know what I want. I knew what I wanted before I came in here. Hell, I knew what I would want today _yesterday_. I don't need to know what somebody else is…"

But Spencer couldn't focus on a word Derek was saying anymore. His attention was drawn to the newest object of his obsession, sitting so innocently across the room.

"Stop it!" Derek whispered harshly, "People are gonna think you're a damned pedophile."

"It's as big as his head…" he trailed distractedly.

"I knew I shoulda left you in the car."

"Good morning, Agent Morgan," the barista smiled flirtatiously. "What can I interest you in today?"

She had long since given up on outright flirting with the older man. That coy smile and vaguely hopeful question were mere tradition at this point. Morgan returned the gesture with a more subdued version of his dazzling smile.

"Don't tell me you forgot what I like."

"That wouldn't be very professional of me, now would it?"

They shared another smile before she went to fill the order, and Morgan turned back to Reid. "Figure out what you want yet, Pretty Boy?"

"Not… yet." There was a look on Reid's face that Morgan had learned to both admire and fear.

"Excuse me," Reid addressed the barista as she handed Morgan his coffee and counted out his change. "Can you tell me the name of that drink?"

She looked in the direction that he was pointing, her confusion painfully clear. "I don't..."

"The beverage that the young man at that table is drinking," he elaborated.

"Oh," she laughed. "It doesn't have a name. That's just something I whip up for my sister's kid. I made it as a special treat for his birthday, and he's kinda been hooked on them ever since. I keep telling her that that much sugar can't be good for him, but hey- I'm not the one who's gonna have to scrape him off the ceiling tonight."

"Yeah, that's interesting. What's in it?"

The woman seemed taken aback by the sudden fervency of the question. "Um… Well, there's no caffeine, of course. I'm not _that_ crazy. It's just a blended decaf mocha with some caramel, another layer of blended decaf vanilla latte, topped off with some whipped cream, chocolate shavings, and more caramel."

"Candy in a cup," Morgan chuckled.

"Exactly," she laughed. "It's basically just a Frappuccino, but I'll let you in on a little secret: Instead of ice, I use chocolate and coffee flavored ice-cream."

"I want one." If he'd sounded fervent before, then this was closer to desperation.

"Spencer…"

"Shhh!"

"Um," she looked from one man to the other, "we don't sell it. I'm... _sorry_?"

"Okay, listen. Here's what I need you to do."

"Spencer-"

"Derek, not now." He never took his eyes off the now almost wary barista. "I need you to make me one of those drinks. I want the mocha and vanilla both full-caff, add extra caramel to the mocha…"

"Spencer, this is ridiculous."

"_Twice,_" he held up two fingers, "the amount of chocolate shavings on top. Those look…" he narrowed his eyes in the kid's direction, "skimpy."

"I don't- Um… It's not for sale, sir."

"Ten bucks."

"Huh?!" Her eyes widened in shock.

"Fifteen."

"_Reid!_"

"Alright- twenty dollars. Because I understand that it's a special order, and these things take a little more time and effort." He looked her dead in the eyes, almost daring her to say 'no'.

"Spencer, you are _not_ about to spend twenty bucks on a damned cup of coffee!"

"Deal." She snatched the bill from Reid's fingers as though afraid he would suddenly change his mind.

"I love Capitalism," Spencer beamed at his lover.

"So, are you gonna drink that monstrosity or just stare at it?" Derek asked once they were back in the car and on the road.

"I feel like we should name it," Spencer mused quietly.

"Reid-"

"Okay, okay. Here goes…"

For the next thirty seconds, all that could be heard were quiet slurps, broken up by occasional smacks and ever-increasing 'mmm's.

Derek shifted a bit uncomfortably in the driver's seat. "Are you okay over there, Spence?"

"Mmm."

"Spencer?" He glanced over just in time to see Spencer unlatch himself from the caffeinated confection. "What's with that face? You alright, Pretty Boy?"

"Derek."

"Yeah?"

"I may need a moment."


	4. Doormat

**To SarySoda and Leo6656: I'm glad I could make you smile :)**

_D is for Doormat_

"Ohhhh, it's a… doormat."

It looked like Reid had been given an overdose of Botox. The anticipatory smile that had been growing larger by the second as he opened the box froze as soon as he'd spotted its contents.

"Oh, boy." Rossi shook his head mournfully and tossed back the rest of his drink. "I'm going to go raid the drink table. Anyone else up for another one?"

"Right behind you," Emily answered, rising quickly from her seat. "JJ?" she called over her shoulder once she'd reached the kitchen door. The blonde hovered close to Reid, floundering for something to say. In the end, she gave him a couple of awkward pats on the shoulder and shuffled off after Prentiss.

"Come on, Garcia. You can teach me how to make a…" Hotch trailed off, eyeing the neon green concoction in her hand.

"Alien Pee," she finished helpfully.

"Yes. Of course." He gestured for her to precede him.

"But-"

"Garcia."

"Oh, alright," she huffed, knowing better than to argue with the boss, even if this _was_ a social event.

The kitchen door closed behind the last two party guests, and Morgan looked from where he knew the girls would be eavesdropping, back to Reid. The expression on his lover's face remained grotesquely pleasant.

"Spencer?"

"Yes?" The sweetly spoken reply was forced out through lips that barely moved. Derek could see the muscles in his jaw tighten spasmodically.

"Don't you like it?"

"It's a… doormat," he answered in the same eerie tone.

"I know."

"With coordinates printed on it."

"Uh-huh…"

"Like from one of those cheesy catalogues that you only get around Christmas…"

That mockery of a smile had collapsed into a mask of horrified bewilderment. Derek thought it wise to let him continue uninterrupted.

"…that sells things that you buy for people you barely know. Like for a weird aunt who collects motorcycle-riding Santa figurines. Or- or for some crazy old man who either has a horrible sense of humor or is too senile to find his way home without GPS coordinates. Derek, I know where I live."

"I know you do, baby."

"So, why? On my birthday of all days, Derek- why would you give me a novelty doormat?" He looked on the verge of tears. "Are you trying to break up with me?"

"_What_? Baby, no..."

"That's it, isn't it? I've felt like you've been avoiding me for weeks. The only time we spend together lately is at work. Now you're giving me this… _thing._" As he said that last word, the inevitable anger rushed to the surface. From the direction of the kitchen, Derek could've sworn he heard an 'uh-oh' followed immediately by a 'shhh'. It would've almost been funny, except that the look on Spencer's face right now made it impossible for him to laugh at anything. He didn't know whether the man would burst into tears or shoot him point blank.

"It's a _doormat_!"

Perhaps both. It was definitely time to end this.

"Spencer, do you recognize those coordinates?" He took his cellphone out of his pocket and opened the GPS application. "Here," he said, handing the phone over to the completely baffled man, "type it in."

It took Reid a few seconds longer than it would have taken Morgan to do the search himself, but it was worth it to be able to watch Spencer's face.

"Oh."

Derek chuckled and sat down next to Spencer.

"La Rosetta," Spencer whispered, "Our first date."

"First date, first kiss… First time I ever imagined spending the rest of my life with one person." Seeing that Spencer was actually struck speechless, Derek continued. "I'm sorry that we haven't spent a lot of time together lately. I just wanted everything to be perfect." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little black box.

"For…?" Spencer asked breathlessly.

"For when we get back to our new house. The honeymoon's gotta end sometime, right?"

Derek closed the distance between them, and as he felt Spencer melt into the kiss, he heard the distinct sounds of three 'awww's and one slightly less distinct 'nice save, kid'. The kiss was broken, but their faces remained so close together that they could almost share the same breath.

"So what do you say, Pretty Boy? Wanna make this thing official?"

"Well," Spencer smiled, glancing down at the platinum band glinting against black velvet, "It _is _a nice mat."


	5. Envelope

**To SarySoda, Leo6656, omgnotagain, BuffyReid, and WheresReenie: Thanks for lovin' on the Review button :) **

_E is for Envelope_

Spencer had trust issues. Derek knew that. Hell, he didn't personally know anyone who _didn't_, but Spencer Reid set a whole new standard. Derek told himself that that was before they got to know each other, before they became best friends- before they became something more.

They'd never labeled exactly what they were. Neither was ever introduced as the other's boyfriend or lover. They'd deemed the former to be too juvenile, the latter too risqué. Spencer would cringe at the term 'significant other' because, really, _"What does that suggest about everyone else in said person's life? Are they by default insignificant compared to one particular individual? It's actually quite rude when you think about it." _

Derek did think about it. He thought about a lot of things concerning their relationship and its progression. Spencer could live without labels; Derek couldn't. He decided that there were eight stages of trust that he needed to reach before he knew with all certainty that Spencer trusted him completely. It became a bit of a game at times, with chances to level up and risks of losing points. This system of labeling suited his competitive personality to a tee.

The first stage was Basic Touch. With a man who was so averse to a simple handshake, casual pats on the shoulder and playful hair tousles without that dreaded flinch were as good as a certificate with 'World's Best Friend' printed in big gold letters.

The second stage was The Open Door. Things included in this stage were: the initiating of casual conversation, the giving and receiving of advice, and the sharing of minor to moderately personal information. The Open Door was almost slammed back in Derek's face on one occasion when he told Gideon about Spencer's nightmares. He never made that mistake again.

Next was the Extracurricular stage, in which they spent time together outside of work. It was pretty basic 'hanging out with the guys' type stuff, and at first, Derek wondered why this stage didn't come _before _ the Open Door stage. Then he realized that for Spencer, it was a lot easier to reveal a small part of himself to another person if there was a clear escape route.

The Brief Flirtation was fun. The touches became a little less casual, the settings for their nights out a bit more intimate. This led directly to Testing the Waters and, after that, The Adult Swim. And wouldn't Reid cringe at _that_?

The next stage, where they currently were, was The Cuddle stage. Yeah, Derek could admit that it wasn't exactly the manliest name, but what else could he call it? He would fall asleep with Spencer wrapped in his arms and wake up trapped in a spider's web of tangled sheets and limbs. He'd given up on trying to keep the man in one spot. At this stage, Spencer was prone to crawling into Derek's lap and initiating an impromptu make-out session or wrapping himself around the older man on the couch and settling in for a long movie. Derek smiled. The Cuddle Stage was nice.

The eighth (and last) stage had yet to be named. There were several options: The Locked Drawer stage, The Forbidden Fruit, Pandora's Box, etc. The labels all sounded so… shady and were not at all the tone that he wanted to set for the huge final step. The problem was that Spencer seemed to be in no hurry to get to this stage.

The single top drawer of the antique English pedestal desk in Spencer's study remained the only thing in the man's life that was off-limits to Derek. He was allowed free access to everything else that was Spencer's- his mind, his body, his every worldly possession (the other eight drawers of the desk included). It was the one secret that Reid had insisted on keeping for himself.

Derek stood there for what must have been the thousandth time, wondering just _what_ his 'unlabeled individual with whom he just happened to share his home and heart' was hiding. One lazy Sunday afternoon, when he had too much to think about and too little to occupy his hands, it became too much. He was half-surprised when he didn't have to pick the lock. The drawer slid open easily, revealing its contents, and Derek realized that it was a testament to Spencer's trust in him that he didn't feel the _need_ to keep the drawer locked.

He stood there for a few seconds, debating with himself, before picking up the plain white envelope that was the sole item in the otherwise empty drawer. There was no name on the outside- no addresses or postmarks. It hadn't even been opened. He raised the envelope closer to the light, hoping to catch even a word of the letter that was sealed within, desperate to sate his overwhelming curiosity.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught a flash of navy blue and heard swiftly retreating footsteps.

And he lamented the fact that life didn't come with save points.


	6. Forget

**A/N: I ended up doing a drib **_**and**_** a drabble for this one. Sorry for making you :( Leo6656. I promise that the next chapter will be more :) K? Lol. Thanks for the reviews guys. Hope you enjoy!**

_F is for Forget_

It's faint at first- just a faraway whisper that he's not even sure is real. He could almost ignore it. Except that when you've been in a profession like his for so many years, you learn not to dismiss anything. The noise is louder now but still muffled by matter and immaterial sleep. He shakes himself out of the haze of a prescription sleep aid that's reserved for nights like these. He wonders if it's a good or bad thing that he rarely needs them anymore. After all, what normal person could sleep after a case like that?

The other side of the bed is empty, the sheets rumpled and cold. Everything is cold- the air in the room, the floor beneath his feet, the silence of the house.

And then the sound of glass meeting tile.

The noise used to startle him. It used to rouse him into action, send him charging forth like a knight on some noble quest. He knows better now. He knows that no matter how fast he runs or how hard he fights, there are some monsters that can never be slain- some demons that they can never outrun.

So, he takes his time. He slips into a pair of shoes and shuffles past each darkened door until he reaches the tiny half-bath downstairs. The door cracks open, unnoticed by haunted eyes that stare unseeing at an empty frame where a mirror used to be. It's the third one this year.

He doesn't mind the slow drip of blood on tile or the crunch of broken glass beneath his shoes. He'll clean up the mess while Derek sleeps, and they won't mention it tomorrow. Because he knows what it's like to want to forget.

Because he knows what it's like to try.

**}cm{**

There are days when the memories are so vivid, so tangible that he doesn't know where the past ends and the present begins.

There are nights like these when the answers to all the mysteries of the universe are in his hand, hidden somewhere at the bottom of a bottle. "Why can't I forget?" he asks.

_Because you wouldn't be you if you did. You wouldn't be half the agent- half the man… _

There are nights like these when the bottle is gently pried from his hand, and hazel eyes meet his with something akin to understanding.

It's almost enough.


	7. Grandma

**A/N: I haven't mentioned this for a few chapters, so: You know that I don't own these guys, right? Okay, I'm covered. Happy reading!**

_G is for Grandma_

Spencer ignored the sounds of clattering pans coming from the kitchen. It would do no good for him to offer his assistance as it had been made abundantly clear that his assistance was not necessary. Alright, so maybe he did drop a few of the ingredients, and maybe he did make a few slips with the knife that could have cost him precious digits, but that was beside the point.

The savory smells wafting into the living room told him that dinner was almost ready anyway. The house was spotless. Everything that could be arranged had been arranged. In short, there was nothing left for him to do. Nothing except pretend to read the book in his lap that had remained open to the same page for more than twenty minutes and to try to still the incessant, nervous bouncing of his knee. The sound of an approaching vehicle had him on his feet, all but tossing the heavy book with no concern as to where it would land. He peered anxiously through a gap in the curtains and sighed. False alarm.

"That's some heavy reading." Spencer startled and turned to see Derek hefting a battered copy of _Anna Karenina_ and holding back a laugh. "I heard it land from all the way in the kitchen."

He let out a huff of agitation and flopped back onto the couch.

"Spencer, you have _got_ to calm down."

"I know. I'm trying," he said distractedly, eyes on the window and knee back to bouncing full-force.

Derek let out a sigh of his own and settled in next to the nervous man. "Alright. Talk to me."

"About?"

Derek placed a hand on Spencer's knee to still it, and with the other, he gently turned the worried face toward his own. "Baby, look at me." When hazel eyes finally met his, he gave a reassuring smile. "You have nothing to worry about. She's going to love you. She already does."

"What if she doesn't?" Spencer gasped. It was as though the voicing of those words had unleashed his panic. "What if she hates me? What if- what if she changes her mind?" By now, Spencer's eyes were darting back and forth with the franticness of his thoughts. "Twenty percent-"

"No." Derek shook his head sharply. "Don't do this."

"I'm being realistic, Derek."

"There's a difference between being realistic and being pessimistic."

"Occasionally," he admitted, and Derek laughed. The warmth of his laughter eased something within Spencer, and he smiled back.

"There we go," Derek whispered at the sight. "Who couldn't love that?"

The sound of the doorbell drew them apart minutes later.

"Ready?" Derek asked in a hushed tone. "Ready," Spencer replied just as quietly.

They opened the door to a kind-faced woman who greeted them both in turn. She smiled apologetically and stepped aside to reveal the shy six-year-old girl hiding behind her.

"Sarah, you remember the Morgans, don't you?" When the child didn't so much as raise her head, the woman turned back to the couple. "I don't know what's come over her. She was excited as can be on the ride over."

Spencer could feel Derek begin to move forward but stopped him with a gentle squeeze to the hand holding his. He knelt before the little girl. "Sarah?" Wary green eyes peeked up from under a fringe of dark brown hair before dropping to stare at the ground. A few seconds passed with Spencer chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. "Did you know… that the name _ Sarah _is of Hebrew origin and means 'woman of high rank' or 'princess'?"

She looked up slowly with a curious tilt of her head. "You told me that already. Remember?"

He furrowed his brow as though desperately trying to remember. "Did I?"

"Yeah. You told it to me the last time you came to see me. And then Mr. Derek said that was a good name because I _was_ a princess, and you asked me if I wanted to come and live with you, and I said yes." By the time she finished recounting their previous meeting, little Sarah looked almost as excited as she had been on that day.

Spencer looked up at Derek, who was now smiling widely, and back to Sarah. "Oh yeah… Now I remember. So, Princess Sarah- What do you say we go inside and explore the castle?"

He stood and offered his hand. Sarah took one step forward and stopped. She peered past them and into the open doorway. "Who is that?" she whispered.

They turned to see Fran Morgan standing in the living room, a bright purple apron speckled with flour and powdered sugar. He smiled. "That's your Grandma Morgan."

The little girl's face lit up with excitement. "I have a grandma?"

Derek was grinning ear to ear. "You sure do, princess. And I'll let you in on a little secret about her." He dropped his voice conspiratorially. Wide-eyed, Sarah leaned in closer. "She makes the _best cookies _ in the entire world." Sarah beamed at them and took hold of both outstretched hands.

Together, they took the first few steps into a new life.


	8. Healthy

**A/N: Yay! We've made it to 'H' already. Only 18 letters to go. Hope you enjoy :) **

_H is for Healthy_

"I think that you might have a problem."

"What are you talkin' about? I don't have a problem."

"You've been here three times this week alone. It's not healthy."

"Spencer…"

"No. I think that you have a problem, and I'm not going to sit around and watch you kill yourself with this poison."

Derek sighed. "Sit down, Spencer." He waited until the seat beside him was occupied. "Now, I don't know how you knew that I was here, and I won't ask."

"You told me that you were going for a run. You lied about where you were going. That's not like you."

"I lied because you've been on my case about this for a month! Ok, so yes- maybe I _have_ overindulged a bit lately, but-"

"More than a bit," Reid scoffed.

"_But_," Derek ground out, "It's nothin' I can't handle."

"Nothing you can't handle?" Spencer asked incredulously. "Have you _seen_ yourself lately? You're cranky, lethargic; you can't stay focused. Other people are starting to notice, Derek. It's affecting your work and home life. You're lying to me about where you're going and making up weird stories about where you've been. You _reek_ of this place when you come home, and I am tired of… Derek? Are you even listening to me? That's it! Sit here and commit a slow suicide if you want. I'm going home."

Spencer got up from the table, ready to storm off, but was caught by a strong hand around his wrist.

"Let go." He tugged futilely at the grasp.

"Sit down."

He tugged again. "No. Let go of me right now, Derek."

"You've made your point, Spencer. I'll quit. Now, will you sit down?" He let go, and Reid stood there for a moment, arms crossed and fuming. "Please? You're makin' a scene."

Spencer glanced around to see several of the patrons staring unabashedly. He felt the room temperature go up by about fifteen degrees as he sank back into the chair.

"Now," Derek said, trying not to laugh at his red-faced boyfriend, "I said I'd quit, and I promise that I will. On one condition."

"What?"

"I want you to do something for me."

"You are not seriously using my concern for your health as leverage for a favor."

"Not exactly."

"Then what is it?"

"Nuh-uh. You have to agree first."

"Derek!"

"You want me to quit? You do me this one teeny tiny favor, and I swear to you that I will never set foot in this place again. Deal?"

Derek watched as Spencer took his time calculating the risk.

"Deal," he answered petulantly.

"Ok. Here… I want you to try it."

"_What_? I am not going to-"

"We had a deal."

"Fine. One bite."

"That's all I ask." Derek smiled innocently.

Spencer picked up the half-eaten burger. The cheese oozed onto his fingers, and he struggled with the urge to wash his hands. He gave his lover one last resentful look before sinking his teeth into the abomination. He chewed slowly at first, as though expecting some internal health mechanism to initiate an auto-eject sequence.

And then it hit him.

"Spence?"

He took another bite.

"Spencer?"

And another.

"Reid!"

He dropped the last couple of bites onto the wrapper, looked down at his grease covered hands, and said in a hoarse whisper, "Oh my damn."

_****A little YouTube inspired crack never hurt anyone.****_


	9. Indiscretion

**I have to admit that I'm having fun with this series. You guys have been great, by the way. Thanks for reading and for lovin' on the review button. It does so crave your touch. Hope you enjoy!**

_I is for Indiscretion_

It didn't make sense. _They_ didn't make sense. At least, not when he stopped to think about it. There were too many complications- far too many risks.

They couldn't hide this from the team. Chances were, most of them already knew. That wasn't the real problem anyway. Morgan and Reid's relationship had always been questionable. There had been rumors flying around about them for years. Of course, back then they would laugh at the snippets of gossip that got back to them, usually via Garcia or a smirking Prentiss. It wasn't until the truth started to change that the rumors became somewhat problematic.

Now there were things that had to be hidden. Spencer found himself scrutinizing every word that they spoke. Every gesture and touch had to be analyzed before it was carried out. It was exhausting. It was nerve-wracking. It couldn't continue.

_An estimated 60 percent of workers have admitted to dating a fellow employee at some point; 20 percent of these affairs will lead to marriage. _

_52 percent of employees involved in a workplace relationship feel that the consequences for violating fraternization rules should be no more than a formal reprimand if the relationship is consensual._

_11 percent of workplace relationships end in the termination of one or both parties._

The odds really weren't so bad. He could keep his friend, his lover, and his career. It wasn't impossible. They just had to be…

Had to be…

_What is that __**word**__? It's so hard to think when Derek's doing that!_

"Ow! You bit me!"

_Discreet._

Spencer slid off of the disordered desktop, doing up the first few buttons of his shirt and straightening his tie.

"Serves you right. I told you to stop."

Derek groaned. "But you used the 'don't stop' voice."

"Derek, we have talked about this. While I found nothing in the code of conduct that strictly prohibits fraternization between two agents, we are, nevertheless, called to a certain degree of discretion."

"We were _being_ discreet. The blinds are closed."

"That's not discreet. It's suspicious, and you know it. I'm serious, Derek. No more calling me up here to help you 'locate a file'. No more sneaking up behind me in the break room…"

"No Coffee Time?!"

Spencer shot him a glare. "No more texts like the ones you were sending earlier. And if I get another picture of you 'missing me', I'll forward it straight to Garcia."

"You wouldn't."

"…"

"Alright, fine. Go back to your cold world of rules and logic."

"Thank you," Reid smiled, unlocking the office door.

"Oh, and Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing." Derek's lips pressed together in an all-too-familiar way, and Spencer didn't even want to guess what the man was thinking. He opened the door just as Garcia was walking by.

"Hey, Garcia."

"XYZ, Junior G."

"Huh?" Spencer stared after her, confused at the bizarre greeting. The sound of nearly uncontrolled laughter had him turning to face Derek. "What's so funny?"

By the time Derek made it across the room, he had finally managed to stop laughing. He leaned close to Spencer's ear and whispered, "XYZ: Examine. Your. Zipper." And on the last word, he made the act unnecessary for the blushing genius.

"Thanks," Spencer squeaked, completely mortified by the situation.

"You're welcome. The odds are zero percent, by the way."

"For what?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

Derek grasped his shoulders and turned him to face the bull-pen. "Those are your odds of avoiding Garcia for the rest of the day. Good luck, Reid."

And with that, he closed the door between them. Spencer heard the lock click into place and saw Derek's grinning face through the open blinds, his coffee mug raised in a toast.


	10. Jealousy

**A/N: For some reason, 'J' always equals 'jealousy'. Hmmm. This turned out longer than I thought it would. So, sorry if that puts you off. I hope that you guys enjoy!**

_J is for Jealousy_

Why Garcia insisted on dragging them all out on a Thursday night, he would never know. Why they'd all eventually caved and accepted the invitation, well… The Goddess of All Things Awesome could be pretty persuasive. Spencer was fairly certain that blackmail was involved somehow.

The place was packed, the normally sedate after-hours spot given over to a younger crowd than they usually saw. It was more of a club atmosphere tonight, and Spencer wondered if he might not prefer to call it a night and accept whatever punishment awaited him. He was just about to make his excuses to Hotch and Rossi and ask them to give his regards to the rest of the team when Garcia plopped back into her seat, flushed and a little out of breath from her trip around the dance floor. Morgan took the seat between her and Reid, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"And you said I couldn't wear you out."

Garcia took several gulps of her bright pink Bahama Mama and fanned herself with her hands. "Honey, you can wear me out any day of the week. Let me catch my breath and rehydrate, and I'll be ready to go again."

"Actually, Garcia if you want to rehydrate, that's really not the way to go. Considering that each serving of alcohol that you ingest reduces the amount of ADH produced by-"

Morgan groaned. "Did you have to get him started? Reid- man, loosen up!" He took a sip of his own drink. "If I have to drag you out there, I am _going_ to get you on that dance floor tonight."

"That's highly unlikely."

"Better than the usual 'not on your life'", he shrugged. "C'mon, mama. You ready for another spin?"

Garcia took a couple of quick swallows from her glass and set it down. "If I don't make it back, tell all my friends that I died happy."

But before she could make it to her feet, she was bumped into from behind by a man walking backwards as he shouted a hello to someone across the bar. Morgan reached unnecessarily to steady her as she fell back into her seat.

"Hey man, you might wanna watch where you're goin'," he said crossly to the man who hadn't so much as uttered an apology.

"Sorry about that," he turned around, a slight scowl marring his handsome features. His eyes scanned the occupants of the table as though looking for the person who had addressed him and stopped when they landed on Spencer Reid. The stare was so long and intense that Reid shifted nervously and looked anywhere else.

"Well, hello there."

All eyes turned to Reid. He looked up to see the most lecherous smile he had ever seen aimed directly at him.

"Um," he swallowed thickly, "_hello_? Do I- do I know you?"

The man laughed. "Wow. That hurts, Spencer. First you disappear and don't even call, now you don't know me?"

It felt like there was a bubble of silence in the bar that encompassed only their table. No one else spoke, too engrossed in the drama that was playing out.

"I'm sorry. I'm not very good with names," Spencer tried to laugh it off.

"You should be good with my name." The slick smile grew even wider. "You said it enough. Rather loudly, if I recall."

Garcia clapped a hand over her mouth. Rossi forgot to close his, and Hotch's lips pressed into a hard line. Spencer's face felt like it was being held under a heat lamp. He could feel himself sliding further down the faux leather seat. With any luck, he'd be all the way under the table before this was over.

"Look. Whatever _happened_ between you two in the past, you're obviously making the kid uncomfortable now. So, why don't you-"

"I don't _know_ him!" Reid interrupted in a harsh whisper. Morgan's jaw clenched, but his eyes remained on the stranger.

"Ohhh. I get it. Why didn't you just say that you were here with someone?"

"Huh? _Morgan_? No! I mean, we're _friends_. We're not…" He was at a loss for words.

The man smiled again, strolling over to stand next to Reid.

"So why don't you let me buy you a drink, then? See if we can't catch up on old times?" Spencer looked up at him in mild panic. He shook his head, but for the life of him, couldn't bring himself to respond. "Tell ya what- Why don't you say goodnight to your friends here, and we can go back to my place and pick up where we left off." He leaned closer to Reid and said in a stage whisper, "I hope you brought your handcuffs this time." He laid a hand on Spencer's shoulder, and he flinched. Morgan was out of his seat before Rossi could finish the swear that was on his lips.

"No!" Garcia shouted, grabbing Morgan's arms. Hotch and Rossi were on their feet as well. JJ and Emily, having noticed the commotion, were making their way across the bar.

"You got about two seconds to take your hand off of him before I break every damn bone in it."

A look of terror crossed the previously smug face, and he slowly withdrew his hand. "I'll uh… I'll just be going now. Good to see you again, Spencer." He hurried away, looking over his shoulder every few steps, until he disappeared into the crowd.

"What'd we miss?" JJ asked, looking around at the strange scene. "Spence?"

Reid was practically shaking. He gazed up at Morgan with a look of utter confusion. "I don't know what happened," he said pathetically.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

Reid nodded in agreement and allowed his friend to lead him away from the table and out of the bar.

The next day found Penelope Garcia sitting at Morgan's desk, bright-eyed and humming a tune as she waited for her co-workers to arrive. She greeted Hotch with a cheerful "Good morning, my Captain!" and the first cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"You're here early," he noted.

"Yeah well… early birds, worms, that kinda thing."

Hotch quirked a brow but didn't say anything. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Garcia," he called just when she'd let her guard down, "are you going to tell them?"

"Tell who… what, sir?"

The thirty-second stare-down that ensued negated any need for interrogation. "Okay! Just don't… look at me like that. It seriously creeps me out." She slumped in Morgan's chair. "What gave me away?"

"It was suspicious from the beginning, but I wasn't entirely sure until Morgan almost took a swing at your friend. When you grabbed Morgan's arms, you weren't looking at Morgan; you were looking at _him_."

She sighed. "His name is Ryan, and he's a friend from my acting troop. He wanted to work on his improv skills, and I thought that our boys could use a little push. Chance meets opportunity. You know how it goes."

"…"

"How much trouble am I in?" she asked in a small voice.

"That depends."

"May I ask on what? Sir?"

"It depends on how late those two get in today." A ghost of a smile curved the corners of his lips as he walked away.


	11. Kiss

**A/N: Wow… Thanks for the love, guys! Your reviews and feedback are to me what coffee is to Reid. Well, I wouldn't go into DT's without reviews like Reid would without coffee, but they're still very nice. I hope you enjoy!**

_K is for Kiss_

"You kissed me."

Reid stood at the door, pajama-clad and holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"Would you like to come in?"

Morgan gazed around the abandoned fourth floor hallway of Reid's apartment building as though only now realizing where he stood. "Uh… yeah. Okay."

Spencer stepped aside to allow his friend to enter and closed the door behind them. "Would you care for something to drink? It's kind of late for coffee, but I can make you some cocoa if you'd like. I'm afraid I don't have anything stronger than that," he smiled.

"You kissed me," Morgan stated again, moving a few steps into the room.

"Yes…" Reid responded, slowly nodding his head, "and I did a pretty bad job if you're only now noticing."

"No, you-" Morgan shook his head. "That's not the point, man. You _kissed_ me!"

Reid let out a long exhale, setting the mug on the coffee table and settling back into the couch. "Morgan, is there a reason that you're here? This conversation doesn't seem to be progressing much past the fact that _yes_, I did kiss you and _no_,you didn't kiss me back."

"Is this some kinda joke?" Morgan asked suddenly. "One of your pranks?"

"Why would it be a joke?"

"Then, why? Why would you just… _Why_, Reid?"

Spencer picked up his mug of hot chocolate, staring pensively into the rising steam. "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it." Morgan looked at him like he'd just lapsed into German. "Oscar Wilde." He took a sip and set the mug back on the table. "You wanted to know why I kissed you. I suppose the most honest answer is that it was too hard not to." He smiled grimly. "And I'm sorry to say that Mr. Wilde was wrong."

Silence.

"So you…" Morgan trailed.

"Yeah."

"And you thought that I…"

Spencer laughed. "It's okay. You don't have to let me down easy." He stood up and walked to the door. "I read too far into things, got my signals crossed. It happens all the time, right?"

"Reid-"

"Morgan." For the first time that night, he saw through the façade of nonchalance. Though he couldn't see Reid's face, the change in posture and the sadness in his voice gave him away. "I'm giving you an out," he said softly.

"That's generous of you."

Reid shrugged. "I figured you'd be anxious to leave." He opened the door and stood staring at the carpet. "Goodnight, Morgan."

He only looked up when an arm reached past him to push the door shut.

"What if I'm not ready to leave?"

Reid closed his eyes and tried to recapture his earlier calm. Morgan was standing so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of the man's body. "Then I'd say that you have a decision to make."

Before he knew what was happening, Reid was enveloped by strong arms, warm breath at the nape of his neck. "You ambushed me." He could feel the smile against his skin.

"You weren't paying attention."

"I'm paying attention now."

Spencer shuddered as he felt that teasing smile morph into a series of barely-there kisses. "Why?" he recovered enough strength to ask.

Derek turned the smaller man in his arms. "Because," he said seriously, "friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship."

"Byron? Really?"

"What can I say? I'm a romantic."

"You kissed me," Spencer breathed minutes later, slightly dazed and out of breath. He wondered idly just when he'd ended up pressed against the door.

"C'mon," Derek chuckled, pulling him further into the apartment, "I believe you owe me a coffee."

"At this time of night?" he asked.

Derek gave him a look that couldn't possibly be misread.


	12. Light

**A/N: Thanks to all the wonderful readers and reviewers out there. You are appreciated.**

**To 20000 WPM: Chapter 11 wasn't a follow-up, but I'm glad that you still enjoyed it. I really just write these as they come, and they haven't been connected so far. However, if I do write a chapter that is connected to a previous one, I'll make sure to note it at the top.**

**To Nene: Yes- Reid is indeed taller. 'Smaller' is meant to refer to the fact that he is slighter of build, not height. Thanks for the feedback :)**

_L is for Light_

Spencer wasn't afraid of the dark, but he did take issue with the inherent absence of light. So, when Derek opened the door to complete darkness, he knew that it was bad. He moved carefully through each room, turning on a light here and there as needed. He eased open the bedroom door, and the hallway light illuminated the lone figure sprawled in an awkward position across the bed. Spencer cracked open one eye and groaned before pulling the covers over his head.

"Sorry," Derek whispered and closed the door until only a sliver of light shone through. He toed off his shoes and joined Spencer beneath the covers. "Hey."

"Hey," came the strained reply.

"Did the Maxalt help at all?"

"No. And I've taken the maximum allowable dosage for a 24-hour period. Cross another one off the list."

Exactly when the migraines started, Derek didn't know. It was only when they had become too frequent and severe to hide that Spencer had said a word about them.

"Well, I picked up the OTC that you were out of and a few others that you might wanna try." He could imagine that half-grimace of an attempted smile when Spencer spoke.

"I think that I've tried everything already."

"Then we'll try a combination. How about a warm bath followed by a full body massage?"

"With peppermint oil?"

"Yes, and I got some lavender oil the other day. The lady at the shop said that the combination might be more effective."

"I hope it wasn't the lady who freaked out because she couldn't see my aura. Please tell me that you didn't go back to that shop."

Derek laughed quietly. "No- the other one."

Spencer thought for a moment. "The one who made you leave your jacket outside?"

"That's the one."

"_Derek_," he whined.

"Spencer, I would fight my way through an army of crystal-waving, leather-hating, new agers if I thought it would help you in the least."

There was a snort of laughter followed immediately by a sharp hiss. "Ow… don't make me laugh."

"Okay," Derek said, climbing out of their den of blankets. "Bath, massage, sleep- in that order. You just stay still, and I'll go set you up."

"Thank you," Spencer responded, smiling a bit easier.

Two hours later, Derek stood next to the bed wearing a tired smile and an oil-stained towel over his shoulder. The room smelled like a florist shop at Christmastime, and his own muscles had begun to ache. But as he watched Spencer's face, relaxed in sleep and free of any sign of pain, he couldn't help but think that it was all worth it.


	13. Map

**A/N: Thanks for all the love, guys :) I enjoy reading your reviews almost as much as I love writing the stories. Ah… reciprocal appreciation. **

***This chapter is tied to Chapter 7: Grandma. Sarah is 7 years old in this one.***

**I hope you enjoy!**

_M is for Map_

"Hi, Daddy. Where are you?"

It was the same greeting he got every time.

"I'm in Phoenix, Princess. Do you know where that is?"

"Um…"

"Can you find Arizona? It's right next to California."

Sarah walked across the room and started searching from the left side of the map. "I don't see it," she said after a minute of running her fingers over the state of Arizona.

"How are you spelling it?" Derek asked knowingly.

"F-e-e-n- um…"

Spencer stood in the doorway, watching with an amused smile.

Derek tried his best not to laugh. "That was a good try. Remember what we learned about p-h words?"

Sarah nodded. "P-h words make the same sound as 'f'." She scanned the map again. "I found it!" she exclaimed happily, then sagged a bit as she looked across the expanse of the painted map that covered an entire wall of her bedroom. "Daddy, how far away are you?"

"Why don't you ask Ada?" he smiled into the receiver. She had been calling Spencer that for months now, having picked up the name during one of their bedtime readings of _The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. _It amused Derek to no end, but despite all the teasing, Spencer had grinned for days.

Sarah turned to Spencer. "Ada, how far is it from here to Phoenix?"

"1,980.8 miles. The average flight time is 4 hours and 7 minutes."

"Oh. Okay." She placed the post-it strip marked 'Daddy' over the red dot next to Phoenix. She knew by now not to ask when he would be home, because he never knew for sure. What she did know was that he always called to tell her where he was and, whenever possible, to say goodnight.

After they'd chatted a few minutes, Sarah handed the phone over to Spencer and hurried off to finish getting ready for school.

"Hey." Reid answered.

"Hey, Pretty Boy. How's everything on the home front?"

"In a matter of hours the world has devolved into chaos. Up is down, down is up. There are visible tears in the fabric of space and time-"

"Ha ha. Funny, Reid."

"Ooh… someone's grumpy. Are those 3AM wake-up calls finally getting to you?"

"Hey, I've got it easy. Don't you have midterms this week?"

"Touché. So… what's the weather like in Phoenix?"

"Serial abduction- third one on this day in three years."

"Sounds nice. Are there a lot of tourists?"

"One connection so far. Hopefully, we'll find somethin' at the last abduction site."

"_Ada, I'm ready!_"

"That's my cue. I'll talk to you tonight," Spencer said as he made his way down the stairs.

"Alright, baby. You and the princess take care. I love you."

"I love you too."

"_I love you, Daddy!_"

Derek grinned as Sarah shouted in the background, and they ended the call.

_***6 days later***_

"Need any help?"

"Daddy!" Sarah leapt from her seat at the kitchen table and ran full-speed into Derek's arms. Spencer picked up the vocabulary worksheet that had fluttered to the floor.

"Hey, Princess," Derek laughed, holding her close and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Welcome home." Spencer kissed him softly. "We missed you." Their eyes met, and Derek saw no judgment or resentment- only the simple truth behind those two statements. They stood there for a few seconds before the moment was interrupted.

"Did you bring me something from Phoenix?" Sarah asked. Though he had tried his best not to start the tradition, whenever he was away for more than a few days, Derek would invariably come bearing gifts. They were small things- trinkets from airport gift shops and souvenir stands- but Sarah always treated them like treasures.

"And just what makes you think that I brought you anything?" She gave him her best Spencer-inspired 'are you kidding me' look, and he caved. "Alright," he said setting her down and reaching into his pocket. He presented the small white box with a regal bow, "for the princess."

Sarah opened the box and beamed when she saw the beaded turquoise and leather bracelet. "Thank you, Daddy." She threw her arms around his waist. "Can you help me put it on?" She handed him the bracelet and held up her arm, but before he could even wrap the ties around the small wrist, she gasped and dashed toward the stairs.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'll be right back!"

"No running on the stairs!" Spencer called, and she slowed down on the last two steps.

Sarah flipped on the light in her bedroom and walked over to the painted map. She couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten. She peeled the tab marked 'Daddy' off of Phoenix and put it back where it belonged: right next to the ones marked 'Ada' and 'Sarah'. _Now_, he was home.

***Ada (pronounced AH-da): informal version of the Sindarin word **_**adar**_**, which means 'father'. **


	14. Numb

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this series. You guys have been great. I especially want to thank the most recent reviewers. Reading your thoughts really brightened my day :)**

**We're over half-way to 'Z'! I hope you enjoy!**

_N is for Numb_

It started out as a small twinge of pain during his mid-morning coffee break on Tuesday. It was uncomfortable, yes, but it went away soon enough. By Friday morning, it was a constant dull throb, and by Sunday night, Spencer was begging Derek to shoot him. "A nice, clean head shot," were his exact words.

Needless to say, Derek didn't oblige, but he did make sure that Spencer was in a dentist's chair by 8am on Monday morning. The culprit, as it turned out, was an impacted wisdom tooth that he'd never had a reason to have removed. Now the thing had become an evil little monster with a demonic root that was hooked around a nerve. After informing the dentist that there was a 10-20% risk of permanent partial facial paralysis after the extraction of such a precariously located root, Spencer had looked him straight in the eye and said, "Get it out, or I swear I'll do it myself."

Seven days of Ibuprofen and Penicillin later, Derek sat waiting in the recovery room of a local oral and maxillofacial surgery center.

"Mr. Morgan?"

Derek stood up to greet the oral surgeon whom he'd met earlier in the week. "Dr. Cormack," he nodded. "Is everything alright? Where's Spencer?"

"Dr. Reid is perfectly fine. In fact, he insisted on walking himself to Recovery." The doctor paused, and Derek could have sworn that he was trying not to laugh. "A nurse will wheel him in shortly. I just need to go over his aftercare instructions with you."

Dr. Cormack handed over several sheets of instructions. "He should rest as much as possible for the next couple of days and nothing strenuous for at least a week. There's a list of dos and don'ts as to diet included. He'll need to get something in his stomach as soon as possible; he won't tolerate pain medication well on an empty stomach. On that note, I've prescribed Nimesulide. It's a very effective NSAID, but it works best when it's started before the anesthesia wears off, so get it filled right away."

"_Knock-knock_," a cheerful, sing-song voice came from the doorway, and a nurse wheeled Spencer into the room. "Here we are, Mr. Reid. Now, wasn't that better than walking all this way?"

"_Dr_. Reid," Morgan corrected distractedly, watching the nurse coax Spencer onto the low, padded table. Spencer was alternately taking in the dimly lit surroundings with a look of absolute wonder and bursting into fits of giggles. "What did you give him?"

"Ketamine and IV Valium, along with the local anesthetic. Trust me, Mr. Morgan- this is a good reaction. It should last anywhere from thirty minutes to a couple of hours. A nurse will be back to transport Dr. Reid to your vehicle in a little while. Do you have any questions?"

"Dr. Reid, I'm going to need you to lie down, now," the nurse stated for the second time, drawing the two men's attention.

"I haph to warn 'em." Spencer was trying to raise himself to a sitting position, but the hand on his chest was preventing his less than valiant effort. "But it's importan', though."

Derek walked over and crouched down beside him. "Hey, Pretty Boy. What's goin' on?"

His glassy eyes landed on Morgan, and his gauze-stuffed cheeks puffed out with a brief grin. "Dewek! You hapha tell 'em to finish it now."

"Finish what?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, and his head went along for the ride. "The wall. They hapha finish the wall. Gonna… be… -vaded… Khan…" Spencer's eyes closed, and his breathing evened out for about ten seconds before he startled awake again. "Wheeere'd m' face go?" He poked at his cheek, and Derek pulled his hand away.

"Don't poke at it, Spencer."

"But I don' haph a face."

He looked so puzzled that Derek couldn't help laughing. "You have a face, baby. You just can't feel it right now."

"Oh." He spotted Dr. Cormack, and raised an accusing finger. "Dewek- he stole m' toof."

"He didn't steal your tooth."

"Hellooooo. I wemember eeeeev'rything." He waved his arms in a wide, sloppy arc to emphasize his point. "He stole m'toof outta m'face."

"I'll just be heading out now, Mr. Morgan. If you have any questions, feel free to call the office. Emergency hours and after-hour contact numbers are in your information packet. Good luck, Dr. Reid. It has truly been a pleasure."

"Thank you." Derek nodded at Dr. Cormack, too occupied with keeping Spencer's fingers out of his mouth to shake the doctor's hand.

"Dewek?" Spencer called in a timid voice minutes after a laughing fit that had left him red-faced and gasping for breath.

"Yeah, baby?" Derek asked, perplexed by the sudden threat of tears.

"Will you still luff me wif no face?"

"Yes, Spencer. I will still love you with no face," he said as solemnly as he could manage.

It was going to be a long couple of hours.


	15. Omission

**A/N: I would much rather hang out on FF than go to work, but alas… Anyway, it's good to be back. Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! Some of your reviews had me rollin'. Lol. **

***This chapter is a follow-up to Chapter 14: Numb, as requested/challenged by **marcallie**. I hope you enjoy!***

_O is for Omission_

"Okay. Now backwards."

"What?"

"Tell me everything you just said, starting with the last thing first."

"Spencer, this is ridiculous. I've told you three times already."

"And there's still a twenty to thirty minute hole in your story."

"I'm starting to feel like I'm on trial here."

"It's a good thing you're not, because this wouldn't hold up in court." Spencer glared across the kitchen table, but his bed-mussed hair, overly large pajamas, and puffy cheek made him somewhat less intimidating.

Derek sighed. "You're not gonna drop this are you?" Spencer continued to glare. "Alright," he relented, "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad."

"Why would I be- Derek, what did you do?"

"I was going to tell you eventually, I swear. I just wanted to keep it to myself for a few days." He shot Spencer an apologetic look before getting up from the table. Spencer's brow furrowed in confusion, then rose in realization when Derek retuned with his cell phone.

"You didn't." The only response was another apologetic look and a half shrug. Spencer pushed the bowl of strawberry Jell-O aside in a controlled motion and held out his hand. Derek quickly deposited the phone onto the upturned palm, said "First video," and left the room.

Spencer sat staring at the playback menu for a good two minutes before playing the first video. They were sitting in what appeared to be a drive-in restaurant. He could see a picture menu with a red call button next to the parking space behind him.

"Spencer," Derek's voice called, and he turned his head toward the camera, "what kind of ice cream do you want?"

"Ice cweam?" he asked. It looked as if he were about to ask for the definition of the term.

"You can have ice cream or a milkshake. You'll have to eat the milkshake with a spoon, though. No straws, remember?"

"Okay," he nodded… And kept nodding.

"Spencer."

"Huh?" His head rose in seemingly slow motion.

"Do you want vanilla or chocolate? Everything else has pieces of fruit or candy in it."

"Vanilla or chocolate?"

"That's right. Which one do you want?"

His glassy eyes blinked exactly twice in the ten second silence.

"Do what now?" The camera shook with Derek's laughter. "_Ha-ha-ha-ha_," Spencer mocked.

Derek placed an order for a chocolate and vanilla swirl soft serve as Spencer rested his head against the window, eyes closed and mouth slightly open.

"Spence, you still with me?"

His head moved lazily from side to side against the glass. "I wanna be home," he moaned.

"We'll go home soon, but I need you to eat something so that you can take your medication."

"Nooooo," he whined, growing more frustrated, "I wanna be home _now_. It's too bright out here. And it's _hot_." He tried several times to open the locked car door.

"Whoa… where ya goin'?" Derek's hand shot out to still his movements. "Hold on a second. I'll let the window down. There; is that better?"

"Uh huh."

The playback ended, and Spencer took a deep breath before selecting the second video. He groaned at the image on the screen.

"Here- let me…" Derek swiped the napkin across Spencer's ice cream covered cheek. Spencer attempted another spoonful, and Derek's hand reached out to guide the spoon to his mouth this time.

"I can do it," he complained. For the most part, he could. Only a few of the attempts at guiding the plastic spoon to his mouth required a second try. His face was streaked with vanilla and chocolate soft serve, and the sudden increase in salivation was evidenced by the slow trickle of drool that hung from his lip.

"I can taste it," he said, looking amazed at the fact. "I think my tongue works, but only half of my lips."

"How does it taste?" It sounded like Derek was holding his breath, he was trying so hard not to laugh.

"Like cold," he said matter-of-factly. "It tastes really, really cold."

The sound of laughter and a stern "Stop that!" had Spencer jerking his head toward the window. There was a car in the space next to theirs, and the little boy in the backseat was pointing and laughing at Spencer, much to his mother's dismay. She leaned back a bit, peering around the electronic menu and uttered a quick, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Derek called back cordially.

Spencer turned his gaze on Derek. The saliva and melted ice cream had now coalesced into a thin, milky white stream that hung from his chin. He stared blankly at the camera, then turned his head back to the window and the child who was still peering out of the backseat window at him.

"It's wude to stare," he told the little boy whose eyes got comically larger at being addressed by the strange adult.

"Mama…" he called tremulously.

The window came up between Spencer and the rest of the world. That didn't stop him from continuing his staring match through the glass. He could hear Derek force out "all that… brainpower… just… gone" through gales of laughter. "Spencer, stop scarin' little kids."

The boy looked away, and Spencer muttered, "Yeah, that's right, bitch." He turned back to Derek with a lopsided yet oddly triumphant grin. "I won." The string of saliva finally broke free.

"Damn, boy." And the video ended.

"Did you show this to anyone else?" Spencer asked, and Derek shook his head slowly. "Good." He set the cell phone on the coffee table and headed back toward the kitchen.

"You're not gonna make me delete it?" Derek asked warily.

Spencer tilted his head in thought. "I'll give you one week, on the conditions that no one- and I mean _no one_- else sees it and that we never speak of it again. You deserve _some _ kind of reward for having to endure… that."

"No problem. I thought it was kinda cute, actually. Man, the look on that kid's-"

"Derek."

"Yeah?"

"You're speaking of it."

"Sorry."

He wouldn't last a week.


	16. Plans

**A/N: Nope- definitely not a drabble. A drib perhaps? Hmmm… While I ponder that, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

_P is for Plans_

Spencer had never been the social butterfly. How could he have been? He was a college freshman who had barely hit puberty. Sure, he and Ethan had their friendly rivalry, and a few of the other kids in his advanced classes would grudgingly ask for his help on assignments from time to time, but he didn't have what he would call 'friends' until he joined the BAU.

These days, he tried not to dwell on the past, especially when the present was so much better. He had a circle of friends who would literally take a bullet for him (and vice versa), a lover who was so perfect for him that it was almost scary at times, and the respect of superiors and colleagues who'd thought that the skinny little runt of a cadet wouldn't make it two weeks into training. What good would it do to dwell on the past?

It's just that sometimes… _Sometimes_, he wondered what it would have been like to be 'normal'. What would it have been like to have experienced all the rites of passage and little milestones that other people took for granted at the time and now looked back on them fondly? It was a thought that he wished he'd kept to himself.

The nostalgic smile on Derek's face had disappeared, the yearbook forgotten as he gave Spencer a look that was too close to pity for his liking. They didn't talk about it for long. Sensing his discomfort, Derek had changed the subject to Spencer's upcoming birthday and potential plans for the occasion.

"Come on. At least give me a hint."

"No," JJ laughed, straightening Spencer's tie and stepping back to take in his appearance. The forest and sage green vest and forest green silk tie had been a good choice. "You look great, Spence."

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself," he smiled back.

JJ looked like a modern day Cinderella, draped in yards of pale blue satin. Her hair was upswept with loose tendrils of blonde curls framing her face.

"Hey, what am I, the ugly stepsister?" Prentiss asked.

"You look gorgeous, Em," JJ assured her, and Spencer was quick to second the opinion.

"I'd better," she scoffed. "The night hasn't even started, and these shoes are killing me already."

"You know, I've never understood why women-"

"Spence," JJ interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Don't." She jerked her head toward Emily, who had her arms folded across her chest and was favoring Spencer with the beginnings of an indignant glare.

"Gotcha."

The doorbell rang, and Spencer rushed off to answer it, grateful to escape the fallout of the war of beauty versus comfort.

"Hello fellow partygoers! Greetings birthday boy," she gave Spencer a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Garcia… Wow."

She stepped past him into the apartment and twirled. The layers of fluffy hot pink and aquamarine fanned out from the sequin covered bodice. The individual strips of gauzy fabric continued to flutter softly for seconds after she had stopped. He wanted to tell her that she reminded him of cotton candy, which was a good thing, but one afternoon worth of experience with women and formalwear had taught him that the first compliment to spring to mind wasn't always what a woman wanted to hear.

"You look beautiful."

"Don't I though?" She grinned and sashayed, making the full skirt sway again. "Look at you! I'm gonna have to drop the 'Junior G' and start calling you 'Double O'. You're like a Bond girl's dream."

"Um… I don't know about that. It's just a suit." He shifted in place, suddenly a bit nervous with the attention.

"That's what Jackie Chan thought." She waved him off.

"_Huh_?"

"Never mind. Ladies!" She bustled off to engage in a most intriguing game of round-robin compliments with JJ and Emily.

The overlapping conversation continued for a good fifteen minutes until the doorbell rang. Spencer had gotten up to answer it when he was descended upon by a swarm of satin and taffeta covered creatures.

"Hold still, Spence."

"Is that tie straight?"

"See if you can get his hair to do the thing."

"Like this?"

"A little more."

"Yeah, that's good."

"You think he needs a mint?"

"Hey!" Spencer called, slightly offended.

"Reid, breath test: breathe in my face."

The doorbell rang again, and the three women stepped back as one. They gazed at him with oddly proud, vaguely misty expressions. He wondered if they were developing some kind of hive mentality. "Okay?" he asked, slowly edging toward the door. They nodded silently. '_Creepy_,' he thought as he opened the door.

"Hey."

Spencer wanted to speak, but his mouth had gone inexplicably dry. "Hey," he eventually croaked.

Derek smiled and let his eyes roam over Spencer's form. "Lookin' good, Pretty Boy."

"Um, thanks. You too."

"Awww…" the girls chorused behind them.

"I know- it's too cute!" Garcia exclaimed. "Okay, boys. Let's get this show on the road!"

"One second," Derek said, setting the clear plastic box that Spencer had failed to notice on top of the table near the front door. Inside the box were two boutonnieres. "May I?" he asked. Spencer nodded dumbly. He pinned one of the boutonnieres onto Spencer's lapel, then did the same for himself. "There. Now we match." The small, dark blue roses and greenery tied together the colors of Spencer's vest and tie and the midnight blue of Derek's.

Spencer's broad smile suddenly morphed into a confused scowl. "There's not a surprise wedding party waiting for me downstairs, is there?"

Derek laughed and shook his head. "Come on, genius," he said, taking Spencer's hand.

They exited the building, and Spencer's eyes widened at the sight of the black stretch limo parked in front. Dave, Will, and Kevin met them, each holding a corsage for his date.

"Don't think that this'll get you anywhere, Rossi," Prentiss joked.

He held up his hands. "I assure you that my intentions are pure."

Garcia pinned a bright pink orchid onto Kevin's lapel, then latched onto his arm with a giddy smile.

"Where's Hotch?" JJ asked.

"Hotch and Beth are gonna meet us at the…" Will trailed off, having noticed how intently Reid was listening. "When we arrive," he finished.

"Et tu, Will?" Spencer asked, causing everyone to laugh. "Will someone please tell me what's going on? I feel like I'm trapped in an episode of _The Twilight Zone_."

"More like _Back to the Future_," Kevin corrected.

"You really haven't figured it out yet?" Derek asked. At Spencer's scowl, he turned to Emily. "Hey Prentiss, you can make that check out to 'Backstage Limo Service'. Backstage is one word, by the way. Never underestimate my skills, girl!"

"Yeah, yeah. The only reason why he didn't guess is that he assumes that you're sane. I mean, what normal person throws his boyfriend a surprise prom for his birthday?"

"Prom?"

"That's right," Derek grinned. "Balloons and confetti, black lights, cheesy music, spiked punch— the whole nine yards."

"This is…" Spencer laughed, at a loss for words, "wow."

"If everyone is ready to go," Rossi announced, "I believe we've already accomplished fashionably late."

"Settle down, old man," Derek teased. "The party doesn't start until the guest of honor arrives. So, what do you say, Spencer? Will you be my prom date?"

The kiss that Spencer gave him was answer enough. They nearly forgot that they weren't the only two people in the world and only parted at the flash of a camera.

"That's a keeper," Garcia sighed, looking at the preview screen on her camera. "One more," she said before walking over to the limo driver and asking him if he would take a group shot of the eight of them. They lined up along the side of the limo, arms around each other and smiling into the camera. No one's smile was brighter than Spencer's.


	17. Question

**A/N: Whoa… We're on 'Q' already? We might just do this, people! **

**Thanks for all the reviews guys. Hearing your thoughts always make me smile.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

_Q is for Question_

"Alright, I think we're finished over here. What's next on the list?" Spencer continued to stare with morbid curiosity over the selection of packaged meats. "Spencer?"

"Derek, is that… Is that what I think it is?" He pointed at a pinkish hunk of flesh.

Derek stepped over next to Spencer. "I'm afraid it is."

"_Hog jowls?_" His face twisted into a look of disgust. "I'm actually looking at prepackaged pig's face?"

Derek shrugged. "It's a Southern tradition. Apparently, it's supposed to-"

"Bring good health and prosperity in the New Year and is typically eaten with black eyed peas and some variety of greens, which represent financial prosperity."

"If you knew already, then why did you ask?"

"Because I've _read_ about it, Derek. I thought it was an outdated tradition. I had no idea that I'd be standing in a supermarket someday staring at the inside of a pig's face. That's _disgusting_."

Spencer was still staring at the packages of meat, completely oblivious to the devious smile that crept over Derek's face. He inched closer to Spencer.

"Wanna touch it?" he whispered.

"What?" He forced his eyes away from the display. "Why would I want to- Derek…"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing-"

But he never got to finish the sentence. Derek grabbed one of the plastic wrapped bundles and shoved it toward Spencer's face. "How 'bout a little kiss?"

"No!" he shrieked, jumping back and attempting to scurry away. Derek caught his arm and pulled him back against his chest. He held Spencer with an arm wrapped around his waist, pressing the cold package of pork product to his cheek. "C'mon, Spencer. Kiss the piggy!"

"Derek, stop!" Spencer arched his neck as far away as he could, struggling to get free.

"Just one kiss."

"No! Oh my God, I think it's leaking; Get it off! Get it off!"

Derek released his captive, doubling over with laughter. Spencer stumbled away, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

"It's not funny," he fumed. "Do you have any idea what kind of bacteria is on my face right now?"

"Oh, calm down. It's not gonna kill you."

Spencer stormed off, mumbling something about '_yersinia enterocolitica_'.

Derek found him on the health and beauty aisle, scrubbing at his face with disinfectant wipes.

"Hey." When Spencer didn't acknowledge his presence, he tried again. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Spencer turned to face him, the frustration in his voice written all over his face. "Because you really seemed to enjoy humiliating me, Derek."

"I wasn't trying to humiliate you. I was just havin' fun."

"Well, it wasn't fun for me," he said quietly, staring at the polished white floor. "When you do things like that-" he paused, shaking his head. "When you do things like that, especially in front of other people, it's too close, Derek. It's too much like…"

Derek let out a heavy breath. He plucked the cylinder of wipes from Spencer's hand and pulled a couple from the container. "Here," he said softly, tipping Spencer's face up with a gentle hand. He moved the wipes over Spencer's face as he spoke. "I don't try to be an immature ass, you know. It just comes out." Spencer snorted. "I would never purposely do anything to hurt or embarrass you, and I really am sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Spencer cracked a tiny smile. "I suppose."

"Good." Derek smiled back. He gave Spencer's cheek one last swipe and then planted a kiss onto the damp skin. "Ugggh," he frowned.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"You don't taste very lucky right now."

_***Yersinia Enterocolitica**_**: Foodborn pathogen found in raw and undercooked meats, usually pork.**


	18. Riposte

**A/N: Have I mentioned that you guys are great? Well, you are. Thanks for all the love in the faves, follows, and reviews that this series has gotten. It warms my heart on these cold winter days. (Uggh. Snow.) I hope you enjoy!**

_R is for Riposte _

Morgan and Reid's relationship was probably the worst kept secret in BAU history. They didn't skip around the office holding hands, but they'd never exactly _tried_ to hide it. And why should they? The rule was never enforced. Derek personally knew three married couples who had started off as members of the same team. They were all in different positions now, but still.

Everyone who had at least two out of five senses and hadn't decided to live in complete denial knew that Derek and Spencer were a couple. So, when Morgan received a 6AM call requesting his presence in Strauss' office one hour before the official start of the workday, he started preparing himself for every unpleasant scenario he could imagine- except for one.

With a heavy sigh, Morgan tossed the transfer papers into the box that held all of his personal effects. He sat down in what used to be his office chair, staring at nothing in particular and wondering how he was going to break the news to Reid.

**}cm{**

Spencer hated politics. He hated how it turned otherwise decent people into soulless, overly ambitious, pseudo-Machiavellians. He hated how it sometimes prevented them from doing their jobs and how it had nearly torn their team apart on more than one occasion.

Reid had been called into Strauss' office several times over the course of a month. It was always an early morning meeting, before any of the other team members arrived. By the second meeting, he had read between the lines enough to discern the truth. Strauss had made a deal to have the ever-sought-after Dr. Reid transferred to another department (in exchange for what, Spencer didn't know), even though he had steadfastly refused all such offers in the past. It wasn't until that last meeting that he knew why she was so sure that he would agree this time.

"Perhaps if you had less incentive to stay…" she had mused before dismissing him curtly. When Derek's cell phone rang at 6AM the next day, it was hard for Spencer to pretend to remain asleep with the surge of anger that flooded his veins. If there was anything that he hated more than politics, it was bullying. Spencer would _not_ be bullied.

Just as he'd expected, Spencer's own phone rang at 7:45AM. He didn't have to check the number to know who it was. Pressing the elevator button that would take him to their floor, he took a deep draught of coffee from his travel mug and smiled around the rim. Erin Strauss was about to learn that she wasn't the biggest fish in the pond.

Derek was waiting for him at his desk in the bullpen when he arrived. The rest of their teammates were gathered around Derek in varying stages of shock and indignation. Spencer walked right past them, ignoring their calls, and continued on to Strauss' office.

"Punctual as always, Dr. Reid. Have a seat."

"Thank you," he smiled.

"Well, I trust that by now you've-"

The ringing of the desk phone interrupted her speech, and she gave the object a scornful look before paling at the number on the caller id.

**}cm{**

The team watched as Reid emerged from the office five minutes later, idly sipping the last dregs of his coffee, one hand in his pocket as he strolled to meet them. It was no sooner than the questions started to fly that Strauss' door opened. Her brisk, angry steps halted, a hateful scowl crossing her face as Reid picked up the box of Morgan's belongings and started toward the stairs.

"This will have to go back in your office. I'm afraid we don't have the space out here."

"Spencer, wait. I have to tell you something." He made a grab for the box, and Spencer pivoted out of reach.

"I already know. It's taken care of."

"What do mean 'it's taken care of'? Spencer, I'm trying to tell you that I've been transferred."

Spencer huffed his way up several steps before answering. "I told you- I already know, and it's been taken care of. Jeez, what do you have in this thing?" He handed the box to Morgan. "Here. I think I've made my point."

Morgan plopped the heavy box onto _his_ desk, sat back in _his_ chair, and stared at the man in front of him, wondering how on earth he had managed to talk Strauss into giving him back his job. But no matter how many times he asked, Spencer would only say that he'd 'cashed in a few chips'. After a few weeks, he and the rest of the team stopped asking.


	19. Suspension

**A/N: Hello again, my friends. Wherever you are, I hope it's warm. Now, while I try my best to combat frostbite from a quick trip to the grocer's, I'll use my last flexible digit to hit the Post New Chapter button. This chapter is connected to chapters 7 and 13. Sara is 9 years old in this one. Thanks for all the love, guys. I hope you enjoy!**

_S is for Suspension_

"I want that little heathen expelled!" The shrill voice leaked through the closed door. Another female voice could be heard giving a firm reprimand. The two male voices were barely audible.

Sara waited outside in the reception area, returning the glare directed at her with full force. She glared until the boy averted his eyes, readjusting the icepack on his cheek with a wince.

"Sara, Jonathan- you two can come in now."

Sara sat down in the chair between her parents, not noticing the grim looks on their faces. She looked straight ahead at the principal and waited to be addressed.

"Alright. Sara, why don't you start? Tell us what happened between you and Jonathan today."

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but she didn't get a chance to say a word.

"Why does she get to go first?" Jonathan's mother complained.

"Mrs. Tate, we agreed to hear what the children have to say," Principal Caruth said with a touch of exasperation. "Go ahead, Sara."

Sara glanced at Mrs. Tate to make sure that she had the floor this time.

"Well, we were at recess, and Amy was showing me the necklace that her daddy got her for Christmas. Jonathan saw it and said that it was ugly and cheap, and his friends started laughing. Then he started bragging about all the stuff that he got for Christmas. He kept picking on Amy's clothes and shoes and calling her family poor, and she started crying."

Sara was getting so angry that her words were starting to run together. Spencer laid a hand on her arm, and she took a deep breath before continuing.

"I told him to stop being mean and to leave us alone. He got mad and said 'make me'. I asked Amy if she wanted to go back inside, and we were walking back when Jonathan pushed Amy down. So, I hit him." She finished with a sharp nod.

Ms. Caruth blinked. "Is that everything, Sara?"

"Um…" she thought for a moment. Then, a wide smile spread over her face. "He started crying, and his friends laughed at _him_."

"Sara," Spencer said warningly.

"Sorry."

"Alright," Ms. Caruth nodded. "Jonathan, is that how it happened?"

"Of course it's not!" Mrs. Tate answered for him. "My son would never push a girl. It must have been one of the other boys."

"Did you push Amy?" Ms. Caruth asked the boy directly.

Jonathan dropped his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"And were you making fun of her as well?"

He nodded his head.

"Thank you for being honest, Jonathan." She looked at the other woman. "I had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but given that this isn't the first incident involving your son, I have no choice but to issue a ten day suspension."

"Ten days?!" Mrs. Tate was livid. "What about her? She hit my child in the face, and she gets off scot-free?"

Ms. Caruth sighed. "Mr. and M- _Dr._ Morgan," she stumbled over the title, "I need you to understand that this school has a zero tolerance policy. Sara," she looked at the girl, "I'm suspending you for three days. Do you understand why you're being suspended?"

"Yes, ma'am. 'Physical violence of any kind is not to be tolerated on school property, except in cases of self-defense'," she quoted. She looked around at the stunned adults. "There was a book in the waiting room."

Ms. Caruth couldn't help but to crack a smile at that. Sara was a model student- studious and attentive in class and always courteous to others. She hated that the girl had to be punished for a fight that she didn't really start. "So long as you understand," she said.

For the entire ride home, the three of them discussed the events of the day. Spencer and Derek proposed similar hypothetical situations and dialoged with Sara on the appropriate responses for each. They made sure that Sara understood that though it was a good thing to stand up to bullies and to come to the defense of friends, it was not always necessary to use violence to do so.

After a promise from Sara to inform an adult before she took matters into her own hands again, the subject was dropped. There had been no raised voices or threats. They both knew that for Sara, three days away from her friends and school was punishment enough.

"Well," Spencer said as they entered the house, "who's up for pizza?"

Sara gave him a surprised look. It wasn't often that they had what Spencer called 'junk food' on a weekday.

"We get to spend some unexpected time together. I'd prefer not to waste it," he said by way of explanation. "One Super Supreme, one pineapple and ham?" he asked.

"Sounds good," Derek agreed, and Sara nodded.

"Ada, can I have cinnamon bites?" she asked hopefully.

"Don't push it, kid," Derek advised her when Spencer quirked a brow and disappeared into the next room.

"Hey," he said when he was sure that Spencer was out of earshot, "did you really make that kid cry?" Sara bit her lip to suppress a smile. Derek crouched down and held up a hand. "Show me how you hit him." Sara's fist collided with his palm. He took her small hand in his, adjusting her fingers. "Hold your thumb like this." He held up his hand as before. "Okay. Try it now."

"Again. Again. Again." The four hits thudded in succession. Derek whistled, shaking out his stinging hand. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed.

"Derek Morgan!" Spencer shouted from the doorway.

Derek gave Sara a solemn look. "I think I'm in trouble."

Sara tried not to laugh _too_ hard.


	20. Tomorrow

**A/N: Hello all, I think that I may be about two hours behind my self-imposed deadline on this one, but real life is a string of four letter words right now. Ah well, a little distraction will do me good. By the way: THANKS! I finally got over 100 reviews on a story. Well, technically 19 stories, but ya know. Anyway, thanks :) I hope you enjoy!**

_T is for Tomorrow_

"I'm sorry; what was that?"

Reid looked away from the file in his hand and toward the man who had been trying to get his attention for almost a full minute. He hadn't meant to ignore Morgan. He was just so close to finding a pattern in the jumble of information in front of him that everything else sort of faded into background noise.

Morgan stood there, staring back at the slight scowl of concentration that had yet to leave Reid's face. It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to focus completely on any conversation right now.

"Nothin', kid," he said, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Finish what you were doing."

He was only a few steps away when a quiet voice called him back.

"Morgan?"

"Yeah?"

Reid's eyes bored into his, searching and sharp, and for the first time, Morgan missed the days when the younger man seemed to avoid eye contact as much as he did physical touch. There was no question about it- he had Spencer Reid's undivided attention. It was much more frightening than he would have ever imagined.

"Is everything… _okay_?" he asked, breaking that intense gaze only long enough to scope out potential eavesdroppers. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

Morgan laughed. How many times had he been on the other side of that question? "Yeah. I know, Reid. Don't worry about it." And he lied with his smile, because he couldn't lie to Reid with words.

Reid cocked his head a little to the right and studied him for a few moments before mirroring the friendly smile and turning back to his work. He was immersed again within seconds. Morgan made his way back up the stairs but stopped, as he so often found himself doing these days, just outside his office door. After quickly scanning the room to make sure that wandering eyes were otherwise occupied, he leaned casually against the railing and took in the sight.

Reid had three files open on his desk, shuffling through the details of serial homicide like some twisted and complex version of Three-Card Monte. Every once in a while, he would stop and stare down at the three top pages, his body completely still save for the thumb and forefinger of his right hand as he rolled a ballpoint pen back and forth. The motion ceased, and Reid hunched forward over the files. He tucked his left hand beneath his chin and unconsciously brought the pen to his mouth. Morgan honestly didn't know if it were a blessing or a curse that from this angle, he couldn't watch the slow slide of smooth plastic against parted lips.

"See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!" Rossi announced from his side. Morgan startled.

"What the hell, man?"

"What?" Rossi asked with a shrug. "It's cleaner than what _you_ were thinking."

Morgan turned back to the bullpen, grateful that his outburst hadn't been as loud as he'd thought. "It's not even like that, Rossi."

"What is it like, then?" When it was clear that he wouldn't be getting an answer to that question anytime soon, he heaved a dramatic sigh and joined Morgan at the rail. They had been standing there for what felt like an eternity when Morgan finally broke the silence.

"Tomorrow," he murmured almost to himself.

"Come again?"

"I said I'll tell him tomorrow."

Rossi took in the man's appearance. He noted the tenseness behind the casual stance, the death grip that he held on the metal beneath his hand, the equal parts fear and determination in his dark eyes. He sighed again, this time far less exaggeratedly and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Sure thing, kid." He gave the shoulder a small pat and walked away.

Morgan waited until Rossi disappeared into his office before turning to head into his own. He sat down at his desk and allowed himself one more affirmation. "Tomorrow," he repeated. For now, he had work to do. He didn't dwell on the fact that he'd come to the same decision every day for the past six years.


	21. Unannounced

**A/N: Rainy days and Mondays are good days to post :) Thanks to the wonderful reviewers on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!**

_U is for Unannounced_

"Just where do you think you're going?" Spencer asked as he used his body to anchor the other man to the bed.

"Um… kitchen."

"Think again."

"Bathroom?"

Spencer snorted. "I doubt it."

"Come on, Spencer. Enough is enough. I'll admit it sounded like fun at first, but I honestly think I'm getting dehydrated," Derek complained.

"I hardly think that you've lost _that_ much fluid," he laughed.

"I'm workin' on it."

"Hmm," Spencer grinned. "That's not a bad idea."

"Baby, _please_. I don't think I can- Oh."

"Mmhmm."

"You're… really gonna try… to keep me in bed all weekend, aren't you?"

"Mmmmhmmmm."

"_Damn_," Derek groaned, trying to find the will to protest. "You're an evil man, Spencer Reid."

"That's _Doctor _Spencer Reid; and you, Agent Morgan, are on bed rest."

"How is it bed rest if I'm more tired now than I was before?"

"Are you questioning my methods?"

"You do know that you're not that kind of doctor, right?"

"Details," Spencer grinned. "Now just relax and let me take care of you. I promise this won't hurt a bit."

**}cm{**

"Are you expecting anyone?"

"Huh?"

"I could have sworn I heard knocking."

"I'm sure the whole neighborhood heard knocking, Pretty B-"

"Shh." Spencer covered Derek's mouth with his hand and sat frustratingly still. "That's weird. Clooney's barking. I'm going to go check it out."

"What? No! You can't just- He's a _dog_. They bark, Reid!"

Spencer was too busy tying the oversized robe to see the sheer exasperation on his lover's face. "He probably just wants to be let out. You stay put- doctor's orders."

"I'm kinda in a critical condition over here, so hurry up."

"You're a terrible patient," Spencer commented as he exited the room.

Spencer burst into the room less than a minute later, wide-eyed and panicking. "Shit. Shit. Shitshitshit…" he swore as he searched frantically for his clothes. Derek sat up immediately.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"Hotch."

"What?"

Spencer clutched an undershirt and one sock to his chest. "I went to let Clooney out, and Hotch is standing at the front door."

"Shit." Derek sprang from the bed while Spencer continued his search. "Did you open the door? Did he see you?"

"No. I just… _Dammit_, Derek. Where did you throw my underwear?"

"Alright, just calm down. Spencer? Spencer, look at me, baby. Calm. Down."

Spencer let out a long, shaky breath.

"That's it. _Calm._ He has no idea that you're here. He's probably just checking in to make sure that I'm good to come back to work." Derek quickly located a tee-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and got dressed. When he was done, he grasped Spencer's shoulders and urged him to sit down on the bed. "Now, you're going to sit here very quietly while I answer the door. Okay?"

"Okay," Spencer nodded. "Quiet is good. I can do quiet."

"Yes, you can," Derek affirmed with a barely suppressed smile. He held up one finger to his lips before turning and closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Morgan." Hotch nodded a greeting.

"Hotch."

They stood in the doorway in silence for several moments.

"May I come in?" Hotch eventually asked.

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Morgan stepped aside to let the unit chief enter his home. "Sorry about that, Hotch. I guess I'm a little out of it right now."

Stony, dark eyes flicked around the interior of the home. "Yes, well- how's the arm?" he asked suddenly.

"The arm? Good. It's fine, Hotch. It was just a graze. I still don't understand why I needed to take any time off."

"Call it a forced vacation. I apologize if this is a bad time, but there are a few forms that need your attention." He handed the stack over to Derek.

"A few?"

"You'll manage. I need everything signed, dated, and on my desk by 8 am Monday morning."

"It figures," Derek sighed. "Act like a hero and everybody wants your autograph."

Hotch actually cracked a smile at that. "Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Morgan."

"Alright. Thanks, Hotch."

The two men turned back toward the front door but found their path blocked by a patiently waiting Clooney.

"Hey, boy. Whatcha got there?" Derek asked. Clooney dropped the item in his mouth and trotted over to the closed bedroom door. Hotch and Morgan looked down at what he left behind.

"Hotch, I-"

"I had no idea you were a fan," Hotch spoke over him, and Derek had the crazy thought that a lesser man would have laughed by now.

"Um… Yeah."

Hotch cocked his head to read the writing printed on the back. " 'To boldly go…'," he broke off the sentence abruptly and stared straight ahead. "Okay. I'll see you on Monday," he said, and with a few quick steps, he showed himself out of the house.

After relocking the front door, Derek walked back to his bedroom and took a deep breath in preparation for the mini-meltdown that was about to ensue. He gave Clooney a mildly chastising look before opening the door.

"Well, the good news is I found your underwear..."


	22. Visit

**A/N: Wow. I missed you guys. *Sigh*. Okay- a quick post before work. I hope you enjoy!**

_V is for Visit_

"Agent Morgan." Morgan brushed past the man standing in the doorway and into the living room of the one bedroom apartment. "Well, do come in," the man said cordially, making a sweeping gesture toward the place where Morgan had stood. He closed the door and turned to see the agent's unamused face. "Tough room," he said drily.

"Let's get something straight: I don't like you."

"Got it. Anything else you wanna get off your chest?" Morgan bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, if that's all…"

"Where's Reid?"

"Your resources are a lot better than mine. You did find _me_, after all. How hard can it be to find one skinny little Fed in New Orleans?"

"Don't play with me, Ethan. You know where he is."

Ethan met the hard gaze for several long seconds before sitting down on the comfortably worn leather couch. "Why do want to know so bad? I'm not crazy about the idea of helping you find someone who doesn't want to be found."

"If you were any kind of friend, you'd-"

"I'd what? Help you assuage some of that guilt? Cause that's what this is all about, isn't it? You're the reason that Spencer ran out tonight, and you need to be the one to find and rescue him. Well, he's not a fucking puppy; he's a grown man. He'll come back when he's ready."

"So, you _have _ heard from him?" Morgan asked, inferring from the reference to this being his fault that Ethan knew the situation.

"Of course. Who else would he call? I'm the best friend he's got right now," he smirked.

Morgan forced himself to unclench his fists. "You left him in a new city with no friends, hundreds of miles away from everything he knew. I can see how you earned that Friend of the Year title."

Ethan snorted. "Hitting below the belt? That doesn't sound like the honorable SSA Derek Morgan. Maybe Spence was wrong about _both_ of us."

"Don't compare me to you."

"And humble as well. Tell me, Agent Morgan- what makes you so much better than me? I ran away from Quantico like a scared kid, which is essentially what I was back then. I hurt him. I'm man enough to admit that. But I wasn't running from Spencer; I was running from a life that I was terrified of getting myself trapped in. I made my decision, wrong or right, and I stuck with it. I didn't fuck with his head and drive him away."

Morgan took a half-step forward before regaining his senses. "I wasn't fucking with his head," he snarled. "Reid knows that I wouldn't do that to him."

"Does he? He said that you couldn't even look at him this morning. That he'd never felt so unwanted in his life, and I'm sure you know that that's saying something."

Morgan closed his eyes and tried to push away the image of tear-filled hazel eyes and a pale hand that reached out for him only to encounter empty space as Morgan backed away. He tried to forget the sound of that arm dropping lamely to Spencer's side, the rustle of fabric against skin, and finally, the opening and closing of the hotel room door. He shook his head, trying to dispel the memories.

"It was a mistake."

"Now, that much he knows."

"No. I shouldn't have… I didn't mean… It was just-"

"Do I look anything like a priest?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. But then, this case… Neither one of us was in the right frame of mind. If we'd been thinking clearly, I would have never let it get that far, and he would've never…"

"He would've never what?" Ethan sounded genuinely curious.

"I took advantage of him. We were both in a bad place, but _I _ should've known better."

And just like that, things started to make a lot more sense. Ethan wondered how two men who made a living of profiling other people could have failed so terribly at reading each other. 'And they're both so damned stubborn,' he thought. 'At this rate, Morgan will end up wondering if he's not some kind of sexual predator, and Spencer will spend the next few hours hiding out until their plane leaves.'

"Please," the softly spoken plea drew Ethan out of his thoughts, "if you know where he is, just tell me." There was really only one thing to do.

Ethan's lips curved into a sly smile. "I can't say that I know where he is at the moment, but I have a pretty good idea where he'll be later."

"What?" Morgan's brow furrowed in confusion, then in anger as he understood. "You wouldn't."

"Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn't," he answered smugly. "One thing's for sure, Agent Morgan- If you're not man enough to take what you want, someone else will."

"You son of a bitch!" Morgan was across the room and halfway around the coffee table when Spencer burst into the room.

"Morgan! No!"

"Reid?"

Reid stared back at him with a deer-in-headlights expression for a moment. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and gestured awkwardly.

"Could you, um… Could you not hit my friend in the face?"

"Huh?" It was then that Morgan realized he was standing over Ethan, his fist still raised in the air. "Oh." He lowered his arm and put some distance between them.

"Okay." Ethan clapped his hands together after he'd stood up from the couch. "I feel like we made some real progress here. I'll just leave you two to wrap things up. Lock up before you leave. Spence, I'll see you next time you're in town."

Ethan stuffed his cell phone and keys into his pocket and left the apartment without another word. He had no doubt that the two would work through their issues. After all, even a failed ex-profiler-in-training could see how this was going to end. 'Or begin.' He smiled. He was halfway down the hall when a thought occurred to him. Rushing back, he opened the front door and walked in on the two men who were now standing quite a bit closer together. They turned to him, not bothering to cover the maelstrom of emotions that were revealed by their expressions. He held up a hand.

"Sorry to interrupt. It would just make me feel a whole lot better if you gave me your word that you won't have sex in my bed."

"Ethan!" Spencer shouted.

"Just making sure," he said and shut the door. The last thing he saw was two red-faced federal agents looking anywhere but at each other.


	23. Winter

**A/N: I hope that I didn't make too many mistakes on this. I was kinda in a rush. I'll edit any typos that I may have missed later. Anywhoo, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, guys. Thanks to all the readers, favers, and followers as well. I hope you enjoy!**

_W is for Winter_

It was a beautiful day, really. The warm afternoon sun filtered down through the leaves, sending spots of light and shadow dancing across the early spring grass. The stone was warm beneath Derek's hand as he grasped the edge as tightly as he grasped for words. He gazed around, lost for a moment, struggling to reconcile the beauty surrounding him with the ruin and desolation within.

It had been a long year- a year of suffering and solitude, punctuated briefly by a flicker of hope in the midst of darkest winter. But the winter was gone, taking with it the friends and family who had gathered to his side, forcing him to wring out every drop of yuletide cheer that existed in his already too-dry soul. They were gone now, and he was left with nothing but the ghosts of echoing footsteps and a pile of unopened gifts.

New Year's came and went, and he watched the dropping of the ball in Times Square as he had done for the first time two years ago.

"_Did you know that the dropping of the ball in Times Square is attended by at least one million spectators yearly, and that it has an estimated global audience of at least one billion? It's one of the most widely recogni-"_

The smile that graced kiss-bruised lips minutes later was brighter than all the lights in Times Square. He hoped that they really would be doing this all year. A little superstition might be nice for once.

He blinked his eyes and January was gone. The girls left hearts and chocolates on Spencer's desk. The cookies were undoubtedly from Garcia. The flowers had obviously come from someone who didn't know Spencer. Derek suspected their newest team member, Mitchell. White lilies, purple roses, and lavender: purity, enchantment, and distrust. 'What would Spencer say about that?' he wondered. Derek just nodded and gave the closest thing to a smile that he could muster. The kid didn't know any better. After all, he'd never had to calm down an insecure genius who had once misinterpreted an ill-chosen bouquet. Derek would never again choose an arrangement just because it was pretty. He'd take the flowers to Spencer later that day. The sweets would go stale on their kitchen table.

How many months had passed since then? Since that unusually somber holiday that none of his teammates had dared mention was their anniversary? They just silently left their tokens like offerings at a makeshift altar- an altar that had yet to be disturbed in any other way. Mitchell took another empty desk on the other side of the bullpen without question or complaint. He was observant, that much could be said for the rookie. He never asked questions about his predecessor, choosing rather to listen intently whenever stories about the genius were shared around him. He wasn't yet a part of the tightknit group of profilers. No- he wasn't yet a part of this family, but he had quickly proven himself a friend. Rumors of just _how_ close certain members of the team were would never originate with him. An ill-timed scandal might have been the death knell to the gasping and wounded soul of this family.

"3 years, 2 months, 6 days, 11 hours," Derek offered lightly, and it was so hard to keep that small upturn of the lips. "Don't ask me how many minutes," he snorted, looking away briefly to swipe at a tear that had finally managed to escape. "I miss you," he said, and for all the longing in that statement, it sounded like an accusation.

"Three _years_, Spencer. Do you know how long that is in Morgan Years?" He cracked a genuine smile at the inside joke. Prentiss was the first to discover the budding relationship between the two coworkers. She playfully slapped Spencer on the back and joked that 'of all the dogs' he could have picked up, he had to take in 'this old stray'. Spencer had blushed and laughed, ducking his head and completely missing the threat conveyed in Emily's stare and the promise in Derek's. She knew that Morgan would never hurt the man she viewed almost as a little brother, but it still took a few months for the irrational surge of protectiveness to subside.

The memories kept coming, and before he knew it, Derek had spent nearly an hour in a one-sided conversation. It was odd to hear what should have been Spencer's words in his own voice. Sometimes, he'd catch himself trailing half-formed sentences as though expecting Spencer to finish his thoughts. "Like you used to…"

He cleared his throat. "Henry turned five on Saturday. JJ… she went all out for the party. It was like a sweet sixteen for five year olds," he laughed. "She even hired a magician. Henry said that his Uncle Spence was better. He misses you. We... We all miss you."

A faint buzzing drew his attention, and Derek reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. "Speak of the Devil," he said, checking the text. There were three missed calls. This wasn't the first time that he'd allowed the rest of the world to fade into the background. He hoped that the team understood. "We have a case," he sighed pushing himself off of the stone bench and stretching his back.

"You know, we could be back a lot sooner if we had that big brain of yours. But then… Yeah, you're right. Then I wouldn't have to come back here, would I?" Derek leaned down into the blank face of his lover and looked into the vacant eyes that had done nothing but stare back at him for over a year. "See, Pretty Boy- that's why _you're_ the genius," he said softly. "Come on. Let's get you back to your room."

Derek unlocked the brakes on the wheelchair and started the familiar stroll back to the hospital entrance. As he walked along, he kept up his side of the light banter, imagining a response for everything he said. If he tried hard enough, he could almost remember the exact changes in Spencer's inflection- the way the pitch of his voice would rise half an octave in irritation or tremble with stifled laughter. If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine that this was just another lazy afternoon interrupted by a work call and that they would pick up where they left off as soon as the case was done. Looking up at the pale blue sky, hearing the song of the thrushes in the nearby trees, he could almost convince himself. It was a beautiful day. Really, it was.


End file.
